


the good kind of crying

by ymorton



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fingering, First Time, M/M, Sex Crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry's first time (with fingers, at least) feat. happy sex crying</p>
            </blockquote>





	the good kind of crying

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr, june 2014 
> 
> come say hello [here](http://www.ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com) !

“We really don’t have to do this,” Nick says, and Harry huffs out a breath, tugs him down into a kiss. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “We’re doing this." 

"It’s just - you keep, like.” Nick strokes Harry’s hair off his forehead. “Moving away when I try to touch you." 

"No I don’t,” Harry lies, and Nick gets that kind of mulish look on his face he gets sometimes, when he’s prepared to argue a point to the death. Harry’s learning a lot about Nick, lately. It’s weird, getting to know someone you used to only see on telly. Nick’s a bit more of a brat than he thought, but Harry’s found it all pretty bloody endearing so far. 

“Haz,” he says. “You can just fuck me, it’s alright. Not everyone needs to-" 

"I know not everyone needs to, but I bloody want to,” Harry says, stubbornly. “Now just - finger me." 

Nick sighs. Harry stares up at him defiantly. 

"Come on,” he says. “Unless you want me to go find someone else?" 

Nick’s face breaks into a grin, wide and unexpected. 

"No,” he says gently, like he’s seen right through Harry’s empty threat. “No, I don’t want you to go find someone else. C’mere then, love." 

"Fine,” Harry says, shakily, moving closer to him on the bed. They’ve been snogging for a half hour, and usually by this point Harry’s fucking deep into Nick, or Nick’s sucking his cock, or at least they’ve jerked each other off. But no. Today, Harry wanted to try something else, and now his stomach’s all shuddery with nerves and his cock’s not even hard. 

“Hey,” Nick says softly, rubbing his hand down Harry’s side. “I just- I want you to have a good time, love. That doesn’t have to mean something up your arse." 

Harry knows that. But he also knows the way Nick goes stuttery, flushed, dark-eyed with pleasure when Harry’s buried inside him, and he knows that he doesn’t like the idea that there’s something he hasn’t done. Harry wants to try  _everything_. And Nick’s the first bloke he’s felt like he could - ask for it, with. 

The first bloke in general, for everything past kissing. Well. One time jerking off with Zayn awake in the next bed over doesn’t really count. 

"Just tell me, like,” Harry says, breathing in deep to calm himself down. “Tell me how I’m supposed to go." 

Nick tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, running his eyes down Harry’s body, and Harry’s cock twitches in renewed interest. He can’t help it. He likes when Nick looks at him like that, all - thoughtful, and wanting. Like he’s just deciding what to do with Harry. 

And this time,  _to-do_  is going to include Nick’s fingers in his arse. And his cock, maybe, if they get that far. 

"Maybe on your hands and knees?” Nick says, running his hand down Harry’s cheek. “Probably the most comfortable for your first time." 

"How’d you do your- first - thing?” Harry says, maybe stalling, just a little bit. Once he turns over his arse will be out and up and it’ll all be  _happening_. 

Nick laughs, ducks his head, skims his hand down Harry’s chest. “I’m not a role model whatsoever.” 

“Why?” Harry asks, leaning in closer, delighted at the prospect of another sex story from Nick. Nick’s already told him about the time he had sex with a woman at uni when he was terribly drunk and she cried afterward, and the time he got a blowjob from some indie rocker backstage at Glasto, and the time he fucked some model in a toilet at a grotty bar in East London and sicked up after. Nick tells the best, most awful, most cringe-inducing stories. “What happened?" 

"Nothing,” Nick says, shrugging. “Honestly. It was just- standard, shitty, uni kind of sex, he didn’t know what he was doing, he went in dry, it hurt. Might have bled a bit. It was one of those - things, like-" 

He shakes his head, huffs out a laugh. “God. I dunno, it was shit.” 

"That sounds shit,” Harry says, swallowing hard. 

“He just didn’t do it right,” Nick says. “Aaaand now I’ve ruined the mood entirely, haven’t I." 

Harry shakes his head, even though his stomach is a bit wobblier than it was a minute ago. He really, really doesn’t want to bleed. 

"That won’t, er,” he says. “Happen. With me. Right?" 

"Jesus, love, no,” Nick breathes. “God, no. I promise. I’ll go so slow." 

Harry nods, resolutely. 

"Lots of slick,” Nick adds, leaning in, kissing his mouth. “I’ll be careful." 

"Yeah,” Harry mumbles against Nick’s lips. “Then let’s, um. Let’s do it, then." 

Nick nods, thumbing over Harry’s cheekbone, then down to his mouth, pulling at Harry’s bottom lip between finger and thumb before he leans in for another kiss. 

Harry could get lost in this - just snogging for ages. He could do that, and then turn Nick over and slide inside him, he knows he could. It’d be easy, and Nick wouldn’t say no. Nick loves it, and he’s easy for it -  _the starter kit for arse fucking_ , as he once referred to himself - and Harry could just - do all this another day. 

But. He’s never got anywhere in life by being weak.  _Man up, Styles_ , he thinks, and he pushes Nick’s hands off him, gets up on all fours. 

"Alright,” he says, knees shaking just the tiniest bit. “Ready." 

Nick makes a laughing kind of sigh sound behind him and Harry blushes all down his neck. Peers over his shoulder at Nick.

"What?" 

"Nothing, you’re just,” Nick says, biting his lip, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You’re just such an - a strange person." 

Harry wrinkles his nose. What a thing to say to the person you’re about to finger-fuck. 

"And I fancy you,” Nick continues, his mouth still working around that helpless kind of smile. “Quite a bit, Harry Styles." 

"Well, cheers,” Harry says, shifting his knees on the bed. “I fancy you too. Fancy putting a finger inside me, or what?" 

Nick laughs for real that time, the sound of it happy and creaking in his throat, and he rolls off the bed. 

"Nick-" 

"Just getting lube, Haz, don’t fret,” he says absently, rummaging around in his drawers. 

Lube, because Harry’ll need it, because Nick’s going to put his fingers inside him. 

“I think maybe, like, two is the most I can do, at least my first time,” he says, nervously, because sometimes he can’t shut up when he’s nervous. “I mean, maybe three. You usually need three before I fuck you, don’t you?" 

"God, love,” Nick says, crawling back into bed, lube in hand. There’s a condom glinting next to it, tucked between Nick’s fingers, which - alright. “You really have a way of sucking the romance out of everything, don’t you." 

"Heyyyy-" 

"It’s a miracle you’ve had so much sex in your short lifetime." 

"Heyyy!" 

Nick laughs, runs his hand over the line of Harry’s back. 

"I was thinking of starting with one,” he says, softly. “Or is that too slow for you, my little sex prodigy?" 

Harry’s tongue feels thick in his mouth, when Nick’s hand dips down, rubbing at the skin just above the cleft of his arse. God, that’s - close. That’s very close to his arsehole. He supposes Nick’s going to get a lot closer, in the next few minutes. 

"No,” Harry manages to say. He swallows loudly, breathes out hard, and Nick murmurs something soft, rubbing his back, higher up. Away from his arse. 

“Haz, you still with me?" 

"Yeah,” Harry says, dropping his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly painfully aware of how his arse looks, all open, on display. He’s never been open like that. 

“Nick?" 

"Yeah, love?" 

"Is my arse weird-looking?”

Nick huffs a laugh. “Sorry, what?” 

“My arse.” Harry grits his teeth. God, this is strange. 

“It’s not weird-looking,” Nick says, voice rich with amusement. “Not at all." 

"Should I wax it or sommat? Cazza told me she waxes hers." 

"Oh my god, how’d you even get on that subject?” Nick snorts. “Jesus, you haven’t even had a finger in there yet, don’t go on worrying about waxing." 

"But maybe I should do it before,” Harry says, as Nick spreads both hands wide on his lower back, massages his thumbs against Harry’s spine. “Like. Before I put anything in there." 

Nick stops moving his hands. 

"Harry, if you don’t want to do this, I need you to tell me, alright?" 

"I want to do it,” Harry says, surly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m gross." 

"Haz,” Nick says, patiently. “You’re not gross. Your arse is lovely." 

"Don’t be silly, it’s just an arse." 

"You think I should wax my bum?” Nick says, slowly sliding his hand down to Harry’s arsecheek. “Think I’m gross?" 

"No,” Harry mumbles. Truth be told, he can barely remember the state of the hair on Nick’s arse. He always feels so good that Harry can’t think of anything else. 

“So don’t think you’re gross,” Nick murmurs. “You’re gorgeous. Your arse is gorgeous." 

Harry goes a bit red. Closes his eyes. 

"If we were at that point, I’d eat you out right now,” Nick says, voice dropping low. “Because I bet you taste fucking incredible, love. Believe me when I say you’re the exact opposite of gross." 

"Jesus,” Harry manages to say, his muscles twitching. He hasn’t even done that to Nick, yet. He shuffles his knees on the bed. “Alright. Let’s - alright. Then." 

"Alright,” Nick says softly, and Harry hears him uncap the bottle of lube. 

The first touch is cold, and Harry shudders out a “- shit.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Nick says, hushed behind him. “It’ll warm up. Breathe for me, love, alright?" 

Harry breathes, shallow kind of gasps that sound terribly loud in the quiet room. Maybe he needs his puffer. Oh god, what if he had an asthma attack right now? Mid-fingering?  

"Harry,” Nick says firmly from behind him. “You have to breathe." 

"I’m - breathing,” Harry gasps, feeling Nick’s finger moving around his arsehole. It’s wet and slippery and strange. Makes his thighs shake. 

“Deeper,” Nick says. “Relax a little bit, alright, I can’t put a finger in when you’re so tense." 

Harry’s already bleeding doing it wrong.  _Shit_. 

He nods, feeling a stupid sort of lump in his throat, and Nick leans forward like he knows exactly how shaky Harry feels right then. 

He twists around, pulls Harry’s head back a little, gives him a kiss. 

"Hey,” he says. “Trust me, alright?" 

"Sorry,” Harry chokes out. 

“Don’t say sorry.” Nick kisses him again. “This is about you, Hazza. I just want to make you feel good, alright, don’t think about me." 

Harry stares at him, his breath slowing down. He’s so fucking lucky, is the thing. Nick had his first time in some musty dormitory room with someone who barely knew him, barely cared for him. Nick  _bled_ , his first time. Harry’s arse clenches at the thought. 

"Alright,” he says, swallowing down the lump of nerves in his throat, licking his lips to catch the taste of Nick. “Alright." 

"No rush,” Nick says. “No hurry. Just breathe for me. Do some of that yoga breathing you’re always going on about." 

Harry nods, and Nick smiles at him, then moves back down Harry’s body. 

Harry drops his head, and tries it out. In for three beats, out for three beats. In. Out. He feels Nick’s finger again, and tries to relax into it, instead of going tight.  _In. Out_. 

"Lovely,” Nick says softly, and Harry lets out a shaking sigh when he realizes Nick’s finger is in him, feeling - strange, and a little painful, but not - not too much. 

“There you are, Haz,” Nick says, voice a comforting murmur above him. He’s moving his finger a bit, and Harry forgets his breathing, bears down on it. Nick inhales sharply. 

“Breathe,” Nick reminds him. “How’s it feel?" 

"Weird,” Harry says, his eyes closed. “Like - weird." 

"Yeah, it is a bit,” Nick says agreeably. “Might not feel good this time." 

"S’not bad,” Harry adds, licking his lips, trying to - to say how it feels. He can’t really figure it out. Nick’s finger keeps moving in him, in gentle little pulses. 

“Let me just-” Nick says, and then his finger is curling, the stretch of it making Harry choke on his breath, and - oh. He brushes against something inside him that makes Harry bite his bottom lip  _hard_. 

“Harry?" 

"Yeah,” Harry says, through gritted teeth. His stomach feels weird. Hot. Like there’s something boiling in the bottom of it. His cock’s been half-mast for most of this but there’s the faintest current of interest running through him, and it’s - it’s just. 

“Was that alright?" 

"Yeah,” Harry repeats. 

“Going to try it again, alright?" 

"Yeah,” Harry sighs, for a third time, because Nick’s moving his finger back again, twisting it, pressing it up against that spot. Harry knows how to find it in Nick - lately he’s even worked out how to fuck up against it with his cock every time, and it makes Nick unravel  _completely_. But he’s never, ever had anyone try and - and - 

“God,” he gasps out. “Nick." 

"Tell me if it’s too much,” Nick says, which is terribly ironic because Harry’s pretty sure he needs  _more_. At this point it’s like - it’s like a tickle, it’s so light, and Harry’s never felt this way before. Like he needs the pressure inside him, something bigger. Something more solid, to push against that spot. Like scratching an itch, but Nick’s only rubbing over it, driving him mad, instead of digging with his fingernails. 

“Not-” Harry manages to say, knees trembling on the bed. “Not too - too much. Please." 

"Keep breathing,” Nick murmurs, his other hand rubbing over Harry’s back, and Harry wants to scream, because Nick’s obviously not on his bloody level. Nick’s stuck back in the Dark Ages, when Harry was scared of having fingers in him. It’s been five minutes. Harry’s moved on. Harry’s fully on board now. 

“You hard?” Nick says, his hand sliding around Harry’s waist. Harry’s not actually sure if he is or not, except when Nick finds his cock and oh - god, yes, yes, he is. Yes, he’s very hard. A weird kind of hard, because all his attention’s focused on his arse and the throb of his cock is an afterthought. A distant afterthought. 

“Oh,” Nick says, sounding surprised. “Yeah." 

"Nick,” he says, shakily, fucking up into Nick’s grip, on autopilot. “I - I think. Two. I think-" 

Nick draws his finger out and Harry whines at the loss. He wants to grind up against something, relieve that pressure, except it’s in his  _arse_ , it’s inside him. It’s not something his dick can fix, and - oh, god, thank god, there’s Nick’s hand again, coaxing him open, two slick fingers sliding in thick and steady. 

"God,” Harry gasps. It hurts again, the stretch, but this time his cock stays hard and he doesn’t feel it like normal pain - more like the kind of pain he gets when Nick tugs his hair as Harry sucks cock, or when Caroline used to rake her fingernails down his back while he was inside her. A bright burning kind of pain that makes his pulse speed up, blood rushing furiously, excitedly. 

Nick’s found his prostate again, straightaway, and he’s rubbing it in circles, every graze of his fingertips drawing Harry closer to something. He’s not sure if he’s going to come. He’s not sure how it works, because his cock feels - far-off, right now, and his whole body feels lit up, and he doesn’t know- 

“That’s so good,” Nick says, his voice sounding far away. “So lovely, Haz, you’re doing so well, love-" 

Harry shoves back against his fingers, his jaw clenching, and he knows he’s not doing his yoga breathing now. He can hear himself, gasping, panting, like he’s just sprinted up a flight of stairs. His chest is heaving. 

"Oh, god, fuck,” he sobs out. “Nick, fuck- Nick-" 

"I know, I know,” Nick says, voice so gentle, but then he twists his fingers hard,  _jabs_  at Harry’s prostate with both of them at once, and like flicking a switch, Harry moans and comes all over Nick’s hand. He feels it distantly - the way his arse shudders and clenches around Nick’s fingers, the jerk of his cock in Nick’s grip. His head’s faraway, and it feels so good, too good. 

“Oh,” Nick breathes out behind him. “Oh, love, breathe, breathe-" 

Harry comes back to himself, notices, like he’s watching someone else, that there are tears dripping off the end of his nose onto the bed. He’s crying. How mad. His arms are shaking, barely holding himself up, and he’s crying. 

Nick takes his fingers out, crawls up next to Harry, wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him down to the bed. 

"Hey,” he says fiercely. “Oh, god, it’s alright, breathe, just breathe, Harry." 

Harry puts his face into Nick’s neck, gulps for air, and Nick strokes his back carefully. 

"We don’t have to do that again,” Nick says, soft and soothing. “I’m sorry-" 

And- wait. What? 

Harry opens his eyes, blinking blearily at Nick. 

"What?” he says, his voice sounding hoarse. “What?" 

"But you’ve tried it, and you’ve done it,” Nick says, biting his lip hard, looking terribly concerned. “Alright-" 

"God, you fucking  _idiot_ ,” Harry chokes out, hitting Nick in the arm. His muscles are still trembly, so it doesn’t do too much damage. 

"What?” Nick says. 

“You  _idiot_. I fucking liked it.” Harry’s so worn-out, the only thing he can think of to do is laugh. He snorts, thickly, and reaches up to scrub a hand over his watery eyes. “God. I fucking liked it a lot. Don’t tell me we’re never gonna do it again.” 

"What?” Nick repeats, wide-eyed. 

“Did you miss the bit where I came so hard I nearly bloody blacked out?” Harry says, still laughing, sniffing in hard. “Jesus, Nick." 

"You liked it?” Nick says, dumbly. “But you were - you cried." 

"Good kind of crying, dumbarse,” Harry says, hitting him again. He’s not sure why he cried, but it sure as fuck wasn’t because he  _didn’t like it_. “How are you twenty-eight and never made someone cry in bed before? S’not always a bad thing-“ 

“Oh, sorry, I’m not making girls weep on my bloody teenage monster cock!” Nick gasps, outraged, his eyes starting to go all warm in a way that means he’s about to laugh. “You bloody scared me!" 

"Sorry I  _scared_  you by  _coming_  when you fucking put your fingers inside me,” Harry laughs. “Thought that was the idea.” 

He’s recovered enough to rub his hand down Nick’s chest and grope his cock, which is - oh. Soft. Mostly. 

"Why?” Harry asks, feeling up the line of it, Nick hissing out a breath at the touch. “Why aren’t you hard?" 

"Coz I thought you were bleeding crying!” Nick says, a bit breathless. “I don’t get off on you being hurt-" 

"What about on me, coming really fucking hard, just from your fingers inside me?” Harry says, letting his mouth curl up into a sweet grin as he gets Nick hard with his hand. Nick’s easy for it, now that he’s apparently reassured that Harry’s not weeping about the loss of his arse virginity. “What about me  _definitely_  wanting you to fuck me next time? Does that get you off, Grim?” 

"Wicked child,” Nick whispers, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face. He’s stiffening up in Harry’s grip, his cheeks flushing. 

“Mm, yeah, I thought so,” Harry says smugly, feeling a bit better now that he’s not all - weepy, and exposed. He liked it, but he likes knowing what the hell he’s doing, too. And by now he knows exactly what to do with this cock in his hand. 

“You really want me to fuck you?” Nick asks doubtfully. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, open-mouthed, leaning forward for a kiss, and then skirting his lips down Nick’s neck, snogging him all wet and bitey. He sucks a quick lovebite, into the skin above Nick’s collarbone. Nick bloody deserves it, anyway. 

“I mean, not now,” Nick says, quickly. “I didn’t mean now. You’re probably a bit sore. Like. I was sore my first time - but. Next time. Or whenever. Whenever you want, honestly-" 

"Shut up, please,” Harry says politely, nipping his way down Nick’s chest, licking at his nipple. “And let me blow you." 

"Can’t believe you  _cried_ ,” Nick says, throwing a hand over his eyes when Harry slides his mouth down around his cock, straightaway, no teasing. He whimpers when Harry rubs the ridged roof of his mouth over the head of Nick’s cock, then pulls away, spit dripping. God, Harry likes this. And - and someday, someday soon, he’s gonna get Nick wet and then sit on Nick’s cock. And it’s going to feel fucking  _incredible_. 

He grins around Nick, and swallows him as deep as he can manage. 

"Ahh, god,  _yes_ ,” Nick contributes, his fist thumping against the sheets. “Yes, Harry, that’s so fucking good-“ 

Harry lifts his head, his lips already feeling swollen. 

"Think about it being my arse,” he says, voice rough. “All hot and tight around you-" 

"Oh, you fucking  _slag_ ,” Nick gasps out, as Harry goes down again, but he’s laughing, and Harry’s laughing too, as much as he can manage around a mouthful of cock. He was crying ten minutes ago, and now he’s laughing, and - god. God. He’s so lucky. He likes this so much.


End file.
